COLUMN: House Warning

From Charlotte Druckman's "Putting It Bluntly," Fall '95 Most people would concur that there isn't much to look forward to by way of on-campus housing after you've experienced freshman life in the Quad. Let's face it, there comes a point in every Penn student's life when he or she has to fly the coop and officially move off-campus. Whether you choose to stay on campus after freshman year and subject yourself to the sneers of your peers who have off-campus addresses (and let's remember fraternities and sororities are considered on-campus housing), or whether you wish to join the student elite in the lovely setting of West Philly, timing is of the essence. For freshmen, finding housing for sophomore year is an unfair procedure at best. If, as many sophomores opt to do, a student wishes to spend next year on campus, the decision must be made as early as February 8th and no later than March 1. Knowing as we all do how much can alter during the course of one's first year at college, it seems wrong to ask someone to know with whom he will be living and where he wishes to live within three weeks after returning from winter break. Friends change, people join sororities and who knows? You could find yourself stranded with two ex-best friends and their newfound acquaintance, a nymphomaniac and kleptomaniac, for roommates. This would make for an arduous second year. Meanwhile, if you do choose to move off-campus, you have to start even earlier, and this is something of which freshmen along with any other potential off-campus neophyte should be aware. Shopping for homes involves being political, underhanded and quick. The early bird gets the nest in this case. The uninformed student may not realize this and find himself looking for a house in February only to learn that he will have to spend his year outside of WaWa in a cardboard box. Or, he may have to be placed in a randomized lottery so that he can spend another fun-filled year on campus in Hill House. And the realtors don't make this any easier. They are equally as misleading. For example, while University City Housing and Campus Apartments, the two major real estate companies that handle "off-campus" housing for Penn students, do not start showing apartments until January 15, they have the majority of their leases signed before winter break. Upon calling one of these realtors to look for a group house now, a student will be disappointed to find the selection close to nil and the locations far from favorable. In October, my friend put herself on a waiting list for a house comprised of separate units, only to learn that the entire building was occupied by the beginning of December, when she called to check up. What's going on here? Of course, present occupants have first choice, but what happens when they don't wish to renew a lease? An employee of University City Housing admitted that it is not fair that a group can tie up a house if their friends are currently living in it and wish to pass it on to people they know. This system works on a first come first serve basis and if you have always wanted to live in that beautiful brownstone on Delancey and your best friend Dottie is giving up her lease, you can get dibs on that house as early as September. Make sure you write a letter -- and write it quickly, or your sorority sister Cookie might beat you to it -- stating your intent and the names of the people who plan to share the house with you. Here is one instance where college really does represent a microcosm of "the real world," and as the woman at University City Housing said, "Why should I care? I just want to get my leases signed." My friend made an excellent point when she remarked how ironic it is that we are fighting for property in the slums of Philadelphia. Putting this into its proper perspective, we should note that students are trying to snatch housing within a very concentrated, unsafe and rather unattractive vicinity. What makes 39th and Pine, a medley of tiny, outwardly dilapidated and tackily painted cottages, such a hot spot? And if it's not sharing a block with Billybob's, it's communal living with psychologically challenged people. Actually, I'll be having the latter experience next year when I move to 40th and Pine. Finding the major realtors no help, one of my friends did some independent research and nabbed a charming house. There are only a few minor drawbacks: the unusually steep staircase that should prove no easy climb when iced over in the winter months, the deserted side door entrance, and last but not least, our neighbors, the inhabitants of the mental institution a few doors down. One of my future roommates did a great job of alleviating my fears when she told me not to worry because these patients' cases were not so severe that they have to be locked up. Actually, they only sleep in the institution and checking in is on a voluntary basis. Terrific! Now they can come trick-or-treating at my house, and next time I have a nervous breakdown, I know I have somewhere to go. This is really consoling, not to mention the fact that another friend has informed me that after a few weeks, I'll grow accustomed to seeing a confused man in a helmet standing in Chimes cafZ. I can't wait to bond. Somebody else started reminiscing to me about the mentally unstable men with hospital bracelets who used to assemble at his sister's stoop. Sesame Street could really have a heyday with its "Just Who Are the People in your Neighborhood?" song if they come visit me next year. Charlotte Druckman is a sophomore English major from New York, N.Y. Putting It Bluntly appears alternate Fridays.